


(It's possible) She wants you too

by MemeKonD (MemeKonYA)



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, Future Fic, Humor, Matchmaking, Scheming, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 22:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeKonYA/pseuds/MemeKonD
Summary: “I like it when you scare them off,” Mal says then, and gives her a wicked thing of a smile, with her eyes glinting playfully.Evie can’t help but smile back, heart thumping in her chest.“—making,” she hears Carlos say.“What?” Mal asks then, turning towards him and frowning.“Matchmaking,” he repeats, smirking a little and taking a sip from Jay’s soda. “I think they are trying to matchmake you two.”Evie’s fingers stop.“But we've been together for ages.”Carlos shrugs.





	(It's possible) She wants you too

**Author's Note:**

> There needs to be more Mal/Evie out there.

“I could have told her it wasn’t going to work ten years ago,” Maleficent drawls as she files her nails, scowling at them in distaste.

“Before or after you told sweet little Mal that love was not meant for her?” The Evil Queen asked as she applied blush on the apples of her cheeks, gaze focused on herself on one of her mirrors.

“I could have told her,” Maleficent ignores her, and blows the dust from her nails in the Queen’s direction, “eons ago, and saved us all from the… indignity, of having to go through this sham of a rehabilitation in Auradon soil.”

“Uh huh,” the Evil Queen hums, uninterested and used to Maleficent’s rants about the evils of goodness, of how Auradon was robbing them of their souls through _kindness_ and _forgiveness_. 

“And how could _you_ have known they weren’t going to work out?” Cruella asks in a neutral tone, petting her coat of fake furs as she reads a fashion magazine with a little moue of distaste (the pastels, oh dear Lord, the _pastels_ , it’s like nobody in this godforsaken little place would know discerning taste if it fell on their heads).

Maleficent clucks her tongue.

“Mal has been bespelled by sweet little Evie since the both of them were in their cute, smelly cloth diapers.” Maleficent snorted and put the file back on the table. “And Mal has inherited mama’s heart. She doesn’t stray.”

“She strayed from the path of evil,” Jafar adds, helpfully, from where he lies on the couch, sprawled with a book that he hasn’t left out of his sight for the past week or so. 

“Evil didn’t belong in her heart,” Maleficent replies, unbothered. 

It would’ve been a touchy subject, in another life; in this one, she’d been forced to live as a lizard for a long, long time, facing her daughter each day yet being unable to help her, to give her advice, to comfort her —however awkwardly— when she’d been running herself ragged trying to be someone she wasn’t for the prince and his people, or to even ground her. It had made her realize that— well. That evil wasn’t what she loved the most nowadays, even if she wasn’t ever going to be a picture perfect mother, like all these poised queens with their spoiled little princesses. 

“Sweet little girls,” the Queen says, as she carefully picks up a highlighter— a glimmering pressed thing in an elaborately decorated tin, with golden flecks that Evie had gifted her for her birthday, and the Queen had been using daily ever since. “Dancing around each other since their little clumsy feet allowed them to.”

“Indeed,” Maleficent agrees.

“Are you planning to meddle?” Cruella asks, reaching towards her sketchbook and her pencils. “I could do with some entertainment. These little Goodness Training sessions are starting to bore the spirit out of me, and you know I _love_ a little devious meddling.”

“Oh, but that would go against everything we are being taught by the Fairy Godmother,” Maleficent croons, admiring her handiwork, nails buffed and filed to perfection.

“So,” Jafar drawls, “what is the plan?”

 

“Our parents are scheming,” Carlos says as he drops his food next to Jay’s, and then plops down on the bench himself, jostling Jay a little. 

“You mean ‘our parents are scheming, _again_ ,’” Mal amends, looking a little amused as she drags her fork through her plate.

“Aren’t they, like, always scheming?” Jay asks, and steals a bite from Carlos’ plate, which Carlos allows with an exaggerated eye-roll.

“It’s kind of how we ended up here,” Evie agrees then, and picks up a leaf from Mal’s hair, detangling the strands of hair while she’s there; it drives her a little crazy when Mal doesn’t brush her hair in the mornings, but they’ve known each other long enough for her to know a lost cause when she sees it.

Besides, she likes how Mal leans into her touch and lets her do her thing regardless of the setting, acting like it’s just the way things are, Evie brushing through her hair with her fingers, tutting at her when she finds a particularly hard knot, or when she spots split ends.

Some people turn and stare— and not in the fun ‘oh, I recognize them from their high profile jobs that they excel at’ way—, because it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been in Auradon, how this place has turned into their home, and how they’ve all grown up to make lives for themselves, distancing themselves from the shadows of their parents— for some people they’ll always be the VKs, the kids from the island. 

And for some _other_ people, Mal will always be the girl who broke their ruler’s heart, regardless of how they split up amicably, by mutual agreement, and how Ben remains good friends with all of them, not only often consulting with them in matters relating to the Island, but just— being the boy he always was, even as a man, friendly and sweet, always letting them know they are his cherished friends in one way or another.

Evie just blows them a kiss, smiling with a particular edge when they blush and sort of jump in place a little, and then scamper. 

“I like it when you scare them off,” Mal says then, and gives her a wicked thing of a smile, with her eyes glinting playfully. 

Evie can’t help but smile back, heart thumping in her chest.

“—making,” she hears Carlos say.

“What?” Mal asks then, turning towards him and frowning. 

“Matchmaking,” he repeats, smirking a little and taking a sip from Jay’s soda. “I think they are trying to matchmake you two.”

Evie’s fingers stop.

“But we've been together for ages.” 

Carlos shrugs.

“Yeah, I know. I think they might not, though— I mean, you two did kinda skip that ‘telling your parents about your relationship’ step.”

Mal looks at her then, and blinks a couple of times in confusion.

“I could swear we told them at mom’s birthday party,” she tells her, and the little dip between her eyebrows distracts Evie for a couple of seconds.

She hums, and gives the matter some thought.

 _Ah_.

“I think that didn’t happen, Jay got food poisoning that night, remember?”

“We agreed to never bring that up again, didn’t we?” Jay grumbles then, shoulders sinking a little. Carlos gives him a couple of consoling shoulder pats, and Jay gives him this mockingly annoyed look that makes Evie smile again.

“Should we tell them?” Evie asks after a couple of seconds in companionable silence, thumbing a stray drop of sauce from the corner of Mal’s mouth and licking it up.

“We could,” Mal starts, but there’s a devious look to her, and her lips curl in a way that makes Evie feel warm all over, even after all this time. She adds, “or we could go along with it just for the hell of it.”

“You can take the girl out of the island,” Carlos starts.

“But you can never take the island out of the girl,” Evie finishes, before kissing her scheming little girlfriend.

 

“They sprung for a _really_ nice restaurant,” Mal notes, impressed as she sits down on their table, fingering the tablecloth and casting a glance around the place. “It could use some décor from this decade, but all in all it’s nice. I bet the food’s expensive.”

“I bet they somehow finagled the money for this out of some poor unsuspecting soul,” Evie adds as she sits down with a little more poise than Mal did, an excited smile on her face. “We haven’t had a proper date in ages.”

Mal gives her an affectionate smile in return, and reaches over the table to squeeze her hand.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says then, and there’s a bit of a pout to her lower lip that Evie would like to spend hours kissing away, “you know how it gets around this time of year, with the new kids. All the stress from finals makes them volatile and there are so many magical mishaps, and Ben hasn’t had time to review the applications for a new co-instructor and Uma—”

“Hey,” she says, and rubs tender circles over the back of Mal’s soft hand, “it’s okay. I mean, you put up with me during the months leading up to Fashion Week.”

Mal flinches at that, and Evie smirks.

Fashion Week is always hectic and dramatic and Evie loses sleep and gets into no less than five arguments a week with models, providers, other designers, and one notorious time, a lost forest fairy who’d seen fit to sprinkle her magic dust all over her central piece and cover it in _leaves_.

(“It’s _winter_ ,” she’d yelled, a little hysterical, “I can’t have my center piece covered with leaves in _winter_!”)

“Yeaaaah,” Mal agrees after pulling herself out from her traumatic flashbacks (possibly of that time she found Evie sleeping in the bathtub, covered with a couple dozens of new sketches for outfits, face all smudged with charcoal). “Fashion Week is _fun_.”

Evie laughs at that, and squeezes Mal’s hand back.

 

The restaurant is, indeed, incredibly expensive.

They have a terrific time picking the most ridiculous items from the menu on someone else’s dime, flirting with each other outrageously and playing footsie under the table, and then bribing their waitress to tell anyone who asked about their date that they had a nice, _friendly_ time (and that she definitely didn’t catch them necking like teenagers in the bathroom).

 

The next attempt is a flashy little weekend trip to this little magical convention that immediately sparks Mal’s interest, with a stay in a hotel with a swanky spa that sparks Evie’s.

“They _definitely_ scammed someone out of this,” Mal chuckles.

“Do you think we should maybe tell the Fairy Godmother?” Evie asks, frowning at the envelope with all their tickets and vouchers.

“Nah,” Mal says, and squeezes her shoulder, “the Fairy Godmother would definitely know if they were doing something, like, terrible. If she’s letting them go along with this, then it’s probably fine.”

Evie nods then, her spirits lifting.

“I wonder if they have one of those Cold-Saunas,” she wonders as she looks up the hotel.

“You’re not getting me inside one of those,” Mal sing-songs as she hooks her chin on her shoulder.

“Sure, honey,” she says, and scrolls down the spa’s features.

 

“Oh my God, there’s only _one bed,_ whatever shall we do?” Mal asks between giggles as they carry their belongings inside their suite.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Evie replies as she puts her bags down, feigning innocence, “we might have to build a barrier out of the many, many pillows on the bed.”

Mal snorts as she puts her own bags down and saunters over to her.

“A pillow barrier?” She asks, lifting an eyebrow and putting her arms around Evie’s waist, pulling her closer.

Evie nods, affecting seriousness.

“And what if I cross this pillow barrier?” Mal asks, her voice going all sultry and tying Evie’s stomach into painful, wonderful knots. She noses the shell of her ear, and whispers, “what if I end up all pressed up to you in your side of the bed?”

Evie bites her lip and tilts her head a little to give Mal space to do whatever she will.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, and there’s no hint of fake innocence left, “I’m sure we’ll find something to do if that happens.”

Mal hums, with her lips to Evie’s ear, and the vibrations spread through her, and make her tingle, make her skin heat up.

“Can’t wait to find out,” Mal says, and then she leans back and smirks at her. “Come on, the first panel starts in twenty minutes, and I want a first row seat.”

Evie closes her eyes and swallows, counting back from a hundred to one. 

 

Over the course of the weekend they find that there _is_ a cold sauna in the hotel’s spa (a new feature that hasn’t made it into their website yet), much to Evie’s delight, and Mal’s worried vexation.

“I can do it alone,” Evie tells her, all doe eyed, “you don’t have to do this if it scares you.”

Mal leads the way to the spa, a determined tilt to her chin, and Evie smiles to herself as she follows.

 

After the trip there’s this overblown flashmob to “Kiss the Girl” when they get together with Jay and Carlos for lunch outside their favorite food truck like they do every Thursday. 

“Do you think they just didn’t know?” Jay asks with a mouth full of food as he watches the performance.

“Oh, no, I think they _definitely_ knew,” Mal says.

 

The week after that it’s box tickets for a play Evie has been dying to see, and once they are there, there’s champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and a small flower arrangement in the center of a small table.

“Roses?” Mal asks, scrunching her nose. “I think they’re losing their touch.”

Evie takes one of the roses out of the arrangement and carefully dethorns it before putting it on Mal, carefully threading the stem around a strand of hair.

“I think it’s positively charming,” she says and smiles when she’s done arranging the rose into Mal’s hair and she leans into her touch. “Some things are overdone for a reason.”

 

(The play is lovely, but they miss most of it.)

 

“I think our game is up,” Evie tells Mal that weekend, coming back to bed with a copy of Auradon Weekly, fresh off their porch.

“Huh?” Mal is sleep-tousled and still a little slow on the uptake, and Evie has to kiss her flushed cheeks, and then her pliant lips, and then— 

Well, then it takes her a while to go back to the topic at hand.

 

“This,” she says a couple of hours later, reaching for the glossy magazine that’s lying on the floor, “read.”

“Are Auradon’s Favorite Bad Girls Finally Tying the Knot?” Mal reads outloud, and then skims the article in silence. 

Evie has already read it herself, and seen the pap pictures of them walking hand-in-hand through Auradon’s most prominent mall, and the ones that are all warm and intimate, them facing each other, having eyes for no one else, one of Evie’s hands cupping Mal’s face. Nobody could ever mistake them for anything other than what they are after looking at that picture, nobody could look at that and somehow come to the conclusion that they are anything other than head over heels for each other.

Evie kind of wants to keep that picture in her atelier. 

“Well, yeah, I guess it’s up,” Mal says once she’s done, “I will miss all the fancy ploys.”

Evie lies back down and nestles herself firmly against Mal, both of them fitting against each other perfectly.

“Mhm,” she agrees, and kisses Mal’s soft, pale shoulder.

“You know what is strange?” Mal whispers into her hair.

“What?” She asks, equally as soft.

“For all that talk about marriage, the article didn’t have any shots of me shopping around for our wedding rings.”

“That is— _what?_ ”

She’s suddenly up again, heart beating wildly as she looks down at Mal, who smiles up at her in this way that Evie can’t quite describe, all soft and warm and just a little bit— maybe just a little bit nervous?

Mal sits up then, and leans towards her bedside desk, looking for something in her drawer.

A box. A wine red velvet box.

Evie’s hands got up to her chest, and she feels her heart racing against her palms, and the sensation is almost burning, but she’s also pretty sure nothing has ever felt so good. 

Mal clears her throat then, and turns around a little to face her.

“This is not how I was planning to do this, but— Evie, will you—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Evie interrupts, and climbs all over Mal, grabbing her face and kissing her, hard enough to maybe hurt a little, and maybe a little desperate, but so full of love, so full of wonder, so full of happiness. She kisses Mal again, and again, and again, because how could she stop, when Mal is so perfect for her, and she will get to spend the rest of her life with her? 

 

“Huh,” Cruella says as she skims over an article on Auradon Weekly. “Seems like our little Evie and Mal have been pulling the wool over our eyes.”

Maleficent looks at the article over her shoulder.

“Huh,” she says, eyes locking into the picture of her baby and Evie staring soulfully into each other’s eyes. Something blooms inside her, and she doesn’t try to tamp it down. “I have to say I’m proud.”

The Queen joins them, and Maleficent pretends to not notice the way her eyes get a little moist as she reads the article carefully, and how she dramatically puts a hand over her bosom.

“I hope Evie bans pastels from the wedding,” Cruella says then, and they all snort.

 

(Evie does, indeed, ban pastels from the wedding.)

**Author's Note:**

> [Come hang out with me!](http://memekon.tumblr.com)


End file.
